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mymuseagustd · 1 year

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#3 All I Want Is A Break (Part 2)

Y/N and Yoongi are best friends, then lovers, until he decides he wants to find out what life can be without her.

Pairing: Yoongi x female reader + Taehung and Jungkook

Genre: Non-IdolAU / Angst / Smut

Warnings: Curse words/ heartache/ Smut

Word count: 3.5K+

PART 1

---

"Baby…" Yoongi's lips were going down my neck, but it was his voice that was pulling me in more. I was sure it was just his voice that could get me off. We hadn't ever tried it, but I was sure if it ever came to the point where only his voice was available, I would still be all set. "Stop dreaming about me when I'm next to you," He bit my chin lightly, pulling me out of my trance.

"Don't call me baby," I slid my hands down his body and groped his still-covered cock when he had me stripped instantly.

"But, you're my baby," He pouted, pushing his lips out. "How will people know you're mine?" his fingers moved in and out of me like they had known their way around my body since forever. They had, and it felt nice to belong to someone. I had seen a house where love was always transactional. With Yoongi, nothing ever was. He always gave, was always patient, and I was so in love with him.

"Okay, you can call me baby. Make sure it's always loud and clear," I pushed him down the bed, so I could get him out of his tight jeans and show him my true devotion to him. "Make everyone hear you, so they know who you belong to as well,"

"Baby…" He moaned, his hands pulling my hair together, as I wrapped my tongue around him, "Baby…."

"BABY!"

My head jerked and hit my bedside table.

"BABY!" Taehyung was yelling from the kitchen, his favourite thing to do when he took up cooking which was very often. I sat up straight and looked around my room. I was spending too much time in it. The sweat on my neck couldn't really confirm my emotion behind the kind of dream I was having, but my body was very frustrated. This was the longest I had gone without any action, and with the accumulating stress, the last two months had not been easy.

"BABY, BABY, BABY!" Tae sang/shouted again.

"Don't call me baby." I groaned, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water.

"Finally! You're up! You've been sleeping all morning, and I'm making fajitas," He was awfully chirpy for 2 PM.

"My body is too pent up. I think I need to take some dancing classes to get it moving cause the gym is making it worse," I sat down on the counter, treating myself to some sour cream with some leftover chips.

"I think you need to get fucked," Tae said nonchalantly.

I paused, "you think I should go ask Yoongi for some? We didn't really discuss this break…"

"No, you broke up with him. It was evident he has moved on when we all saw him at the club. You need someone new," I gulped as Tae spoke. He realised my discomfort, "Look, Y/N, I'm not going to lie to you and make it sound like it is better than what's reality. I hate seeing you like this, though. And we have discussed this. His asking for a break was unfair. And, even though you have painted an amazing picture of him for us, he is still not out that door asking you back."

"I know, I know," I nodded. We had discussed this a lot. "I just am not ready for a relationship."

"Relationship? No one is recommending that. No, you have been with one guy your entire life! And healing that scar will need a lot of therapy which, by the way, congratulations for starting, but there are one-night stands, rendezvous, situationships waiting to be explored. Please don't get a boyfriend, get a fuck-friend."

"Ooooh, like Nadia…" I smirked. Nadia was very interested in learning the ins and outs of the course she was sharing with Tae and was not against studying the ins and outs of Tae. The poor girl was infatuated with him, and Tae was playing the classic fuckbuddy.

"Yeah, exactly like Nadia!" This poor boy was so clueless.

"Okay, I will let you know when I am ready for a rendezvous, is it?" I said, disgusted. "Gross, what is wrong with you?" I walked off.

"It's what it's called!" He laughed.

—

"Jae, I really don't want to meet anyone new. Trust me!" Yoongi wanted to clarify, but Jae was too excited to meet the girls he had met at his internship. Yoongi repeated it twice in the car and then at the club, but Jae was not receptive.

"Tia! Hey baby! Here lemme introduce you to my friend, Yoongi!" Tia was a design major from the same university, and even though she was lovely and sexy in the little black dress she wore, Yoongi was not interested. He wasn't rude, though, so he introduced himself and kept talking to her through the night.

They were laughing about something insignificant when Maria came up wanting to take pictures. Yoongi instinctively put his arms around her, stopping her from falling as he made her laugh again. The pictures were clicked, and Tia tightened his arm around her, bringing herself closer. Yoongi was a bit surprised. It wasn't like he wasn't offered chances to be with other women, but no one had been that forward. Usually, Y/N was with him, so the territories were always established, more by him for her, than for himself. Y/N, she was..is gorgeous, he thought. She could light up a party just by walking into it. Made everyone feel included, except when she was nervous, like she had been with his new friends, and that's when she kept herself very close to him. He liked how she fit into his body like she was just made for him. Tia kept coming closer to Yoongi, sticking her body to him, and it felt so foreign he had to take a step back, "let me get us a drink?"

"Yeah! I'll come with you!" Tia nodded, and they made their way down to the bar.

"What would you like?" Yoongi asked Tia, trying to get the bartender's attention.

"Vodka soda!" Tia waved her glass and looked around, "hey! That's Jungkook!" Tia yelled, pointing at the dance floor for Yoongi to place him, "He is the coolest human in my design class! His work is insane!" Yoongi's eyes followed Tia's direction to the dance floor. There he was, dancing and making a girl swirl to the beat as she laughed. He stumbled, his back hitting the bar. "You okay?" Tia asked.

His eyes didn't leave her. She looked gorgeous, somewhat thinner. Why was she thinner? But so sexy, dancing to the beat on the stage. Y/N did have a way of capturing the scene. She threw her head back as Jungkook whispered something in her ear and swirled her around with him.

"Yoongi?" Tia repeated.

"Yeah, yes, I am good, I'm good, here," He handed her the glass. "When you go up, could you let Jae or Sara, even Maria know that I've left? I'm just gonna go home. Not feeling too well." He left for the door before Tia could respond.

He felt weird. "I wanted this, I wanted this," He repeated, waiting for the cab to arrive.

"Leaving already?" Tara came and stood next to him.

"Feeling weird, are you going back too?" He asked, and she nodded. "Join me," He pointed to his booked cab ride.

"I met Y/N," she said.

"Yeah?"

"She'll be fine."

Yoongi just nodded, "You really think I could also find out who I am with her?" Tara looked at him in question. "That's what you were going to say, right? Before Jae came in?"

Tara nodded, "I've known Jae and Sara since school. And Sara likes you, that should've been the first sign to not listen to that shit."

"I didn't… I'm not naive. I didn't take their idea and follow through," Yoongi explained. "My parents have been discussing marriage. They bought the ring too, can you believe it? That is my thing to do when we are ready!"

"I thought she was your best friend?" Tara questioned.

"She is my best friend. And I'm being selfish. I know. But I'm all she has ever known. Do you know what her mum said before we left for uni? She said, 'wow, looks like Y/N is in my tracks of having one man for life.' God, her parents are so toxic."

"I don't get your point?" Yoongi was more in his head than in his ongoing explanation to Tara.

"What if one-day Y/N realises that she doesn't want to be like her mom? She hates her parent's relationship, and they were together since school as well. What if she realises that what we have can translate into what her parents made of their marriage?"

"Wow, I thought you left her cause you wanted to figure out life for yourself."

"I did. I do. I want us to have a chance to figure out what not being together feels like. So, that we are sure we want this. I want to explore being young and single for a bit. Just being with myself and not having my life dictated by my parents. And she will see this. She is smart. I just don't want to have any expectations for once."

"Okay, I'm no shrink. But you need help, Yoongi," Tara cut him off. "And you clearly are very confused about her place in your life. If you don't love her, end it! It will do you both good!"

"What the fuck? When did I even say that?" Yoongi yelled. "I do love her." He wasn't in doubt at all.

"Oh, did you tell her that you were feeling stuck? Scared? Claustrophobic?"

"I literally didn't say any of those things," Yoongi sighed. Clearly, Tara did not understand his situation.

"Yeah, you're not naming it. But it is what it is. You just threw her out of your life cause Jae told you his story of toxic romances and girlfriends not having a life. And Sara, who is fucked up, by the way, made it like Y/N didn't have a life without you. And you agreed to it the entire night, and the next we know is that you are not with her anymore," Tara really did like Y/N more. "And what if she likes this break and finds someone new? What will you do?"

Yoongi didn't respond. He hadn't thought this through.

—

"So, you remember, Jungkook?" Zoya asked me as we climbed the mountain. No one could change Tae's plan, and here we were, climbing this stupid mountain under the sun.

"Who?" I asked, trying to blink through the sweat.

"The hunk who you danced with all night, you lil minx!" Zoya tickled her.

"Yes, he texted me." I laughed. "Wants to grab a coffee with me," Zoya raised her eyebrow, "soon too!"

"And, what did you say," she asked.

"I really don't want to go on a date, so I asked him if we can meet as friends," It was all that I could offer. "And we are going to meet next week."

"Are you okay? Seeing Yoongi? With that chick?" She asked.

"I don't know. I'm not thinking about it," I told her honestly.

—

Classes had started again, and all my time not working was spent at the library. I had taken up a research project, and the readings were driving me crazy. It was 11 PM, and I was still here. Thankfully, my therapy was going great. We were reworking my narrative about belonging to someone. I should belong to myself first before giving a part of myself to someone else.

With Yoongi, I had made him my safe haven, which was not fair to either of us. She made me see how I was more dependent on him and how that had influenced so many of my life decisions. Like not going on the trip with all my girlfriends because Yoongi wasn't interested or not taking classes or going to movies which I liked because Yoongi might not have enjoyed them. Instead of treating him as my friend and partner, I was wrapping my life around his choices which made me more like a crutch. Maybe that's why he felt like he needed to move on.

It had been more than three months, though, and I was okay. I missed my friend more than I missed anything else. We could talk about anything. Talk about our future, our interests, and our problems. He just got it without me having to explain it to him. He was truly my best friend. But relationships evolve, and maybe that would be us.

If he was here right now, he would totally understand why I was getting competitive in my class and why I felt I needed to take on this stupid research project.

"This is an announcement for all students. We will close the front desk in 30 minutes. Please come to the front desk for any books intended to be taken out of the library."

"Ugh!" I quickly picked up my books, which I wanted to issue under my name, and ran to the front desk. "Hey! I can still continue studying here, right?" I asked the librarian.

"Yes, we are just closing the counter." He nodded.

"Great," I really needed to finish these readings cause Tae had Nadia over, and they were unreasonably loud at night.

"Hey," I felt a shiver down my spine.

I turned around, "Yoongi…uh…hi."

"Need help carrying those?" He asked, looking at the mountain of books, the librarian was issuing for me.

"Ah no, I'm good. I carried them all here," I smiled. I pulled the books towards me.

"Wait, let me help. Can I just have this book?" He asked the librarian, who quickly issued his book. "Here," He took half my bunch, "where to?"

"Umm, I'm looking for a comfy place," I looked around.

"I know the perfect spot! C'mon," He walked off before I could respond.

We took the lift to the 5th floor, "We have a dedicated space for the architecture wing, and that place has this tiny room, with the comfiest floor sofa with a table and a coffee counter in the next room." Yoongi explained, all excited.

"Oh, we don't have to. I can find a place…."

"You'll love it. C'mon," He sped up again before I could argue.

To his word, the place was so comfy. It also had a wall of floor-length windows at the other side of the table with a beautiful view of the campus. We sat down next to each other, and I sorted my readings.

"Are you prepping for a paper?" He asked, pulling his notebook out as well.

"Research project," I answered.

"Ah," he nodded. "Read on," He smiled, getting ready to read as well.

—

Yoongi couldn't help staring at her in between reading his book. She kept biting her pencil trying to sort through her sticky notes because she always started with a colour coding system which fell apart within minutes. It was a while before she took a break and just looked out of the window.

"How are your classes going?" He asked. He had been dying to speak to her. For the first time ever, he didn't know what was happening in her life, and he had so much to tell her too. He liked this, though, sitting next to her. It felt like home.

"Not bad. It's tough, but I'm trying to do better," She responded.

"What about yours?" She asked.

"Tough. It is very new. I had to make a model the other day, and all I wanted was that little sticky tape you had for your earrings. You know, the one you stick behind your-"

"Ear tape? It's to help with the weight," She laughed.

"Fuck yeah, it would have helped so much to hold the weight of this stupid model," Yoongi took out his phone to show her pictures. The wallpaper was still her, which she didn't comment on, "look at this. It took me more than 10 days to make this, and the professor threw it against the wall."

"Wait, what the fuck?"

"Don't worry! He ended it by saying that people who had their projects thrown against the wall should be proud, which was me and four more of us."

"Proud?"

"Yeah, ours was worth him looking at and critiquing, and the other 20 kids had failed." Yoongi continued, telling her stories of all she had missed, and she instinctively told him all of hers. It was so comfortable. It was like a habit. They went out to get coffee and kept talking about places they had eaten, new content they had seen, and people they had met. "Oh, I have a friend, Jungkook, who can really help you design this landscape. I can speak to him if you like. I think he uses that software. Atleast I think so. Yeah, you can't let that bitch win? How dare she claim your idea as hers!"

"That'll be nice," Yoongi gulped, remembering him from the club, and it shook him from the trance he was in right now. "You'll be surprised. I've met loads of people like her." he didn't want their conversation to end.

They keep talking as they leave the library to walk home. Their home, which was no longer theirs, but they don't realise it as they open their takeaway order on the table and sit down to eat.

"Ugh, my back hurts so much these days. I feel like I'm sitting and reading all the time!" Y/N stretched on the sofa as she finished showing him her research proposal.

"Come here, let me massage it a bit," Yoongi made her turn so her back for facing his front. "Relax your shoulders," he massaged her neck, just like she liked it. She moaned as Yoongi hit her spots, and it went right down to his dick. It had been so long since they had been together, and the noises she was making had him a little dizzy at this time of the night. "Do you like it, baby?" He asked her.

She nodded, tipping her head back as his hands went down her back, kind of dizzy herself with this feeling. It was instinct. It had to me. You couldn't tell who kissed first, but Yoongi's lips were on her, warm, fervent against hers. His hands went around her neck, tipping her face down and kissing her deeply.

"Oh gosh, Yoongi," She moaned, turning her body and climbing his lap. She could feel him hard, thick against her core, as she wrapped her body around his and pulled him in further. Yoongi couldn't pull her close enough to him. He wanted to touch all of her, all at once, have her in his veins, for it had been too long that he had her so close. It was an injustice to not have her this close to him at all times, it was wrong, and he could not think of one reason why he had let this happen.

She raised her arms as he pulled her oversized hoody off. She looked like sin, in just her bra and underwear in her hoody she liked wearing as a dress. She wastes no time getting his clothes off while trying to get him closer to her. He is so hard against her, and when he plunges into her, it feels like time stops, and it is just them at this moment.

"You feel so good," He moans, pulling her closer and kissing her all over her chest as she moves in his lap. "Please don't stop."

"I'm never going to stop," she whispers, getting his lips on her again. He fucks into her until she is sobbing in his arms and then cumming around his cock. She bites his shoulder as he releases inside her, holding her close, with her head on his chest. "Stay," he says, and Y/N can't think of anything else as she falls asleep in his arms.

Y/N has placed this sofa in their house, in a way where the light hits it directly during the sunrise. That's how he knew she was gone before the sun was up.

---

One more part and we wrap? I wanted to show more of a journey for them.

What do you think?

Give me your thoughts on what you want to happen next if you like?

©mymuseagustd@2023

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dalamjisung · 1 year

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secondary character ❁ min yoogi

genre: fluff with a dash of angst

word count: 13575 (holy shit)

pairing: reader x min yoongi

description: you see yourself as nothing but a secondary character, following the script and saying the little lines you got to say. in his eyes, though, you shine like a main lead, and he wants you to see what he does.

It’s a weird, inexplicable thing, how it happened or why, but it’s how you’ve felt pretty much your entire life– secondary. And before anyone starts pointing fingers and saying nonsensical things about how this is a younger sibling syndrome, it is important to highlight the fact that you are younger, yes, but by mere two minutes. Apparently, you were the one that was supposed to be born first, but some emergency or something happened that they had to pull your twin brother out before you.

And so a cycle had been established, you think. First born, first to walk, first to talk, first to everything. You quite easily fell into your role as the secondary character to your brother’s main character energy. From his appearance to his personality, it was like Minjun had been born to shine– charming, bright, and warm, people were drawn to him like moths to a light, needing a piece of whatever dopamine hit he was offering then. You, on the other hand, preferred the safety of the shadow he casted with his brilliance; you liked the quietness and the somewhat empty feeling of where you stood. Behind him, you could simply exist, left alone to try and process the reality of your situation. Because not many knew you, and not many tried, it was quite easy make yourself believe what people said and accept that yes, you were his opposite, and yes, you were reclusive, and weird, and different. The different was the one that prickled the most, but if you could convince yourself that they were right, you would convince yourself that you did care. Which was exactly what you did, for years on years on years, until now.

Now, life is a little different. Now, you’re not a child, or a tween, or a young adult. Now, you’re a 25 year old woman living in the big city. Now, you live with your best friend, who is also a 25 year old woman, and you two do what normal 25 year olds do. Notice your usage of the word normal– it has been one you’ve become quite attached to. Normal. Now, you like being normal; hell, you thrive in being normal. You live for the routine you’ve created, repeating the same things in the same order, day after day, week after week– it gives your purpose knowing that this is what you're meant to be doing, this exact same time, tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after. Repeating it all, all over again. A normal day for you (your favorite kind of day) goes exactly like this: you wake up at 6am and get out of bed at 6:30am. By 7:15, you are out the door– skin care done, outfit chosen, and backpack checked– to get the 7:22 bus. You arrive at your final stop promptly at 8, where your favorite coffee shop stands proudly across the street from, and you walk in and out in less than 10 minutes, the baristas knowing you and your order by heart. The office is a short 5 minute walk away, and you’re seated and ready to go by 8:15am, sitting on your usual desk before anyone can come along and steal your seat. Some days, if you’re feeling impulsive and spontaneous, you’ll give yourself a 10 minute window to spend more time picking a shirt or massaging your cream on your face. But those are rare days and you appreciate them when they come.

Living your life like this is not all bad, as much as people like to make fun of you. Actually, it’s not bad at all. With controlled variables, chances are you can predict the outcomes. Or at least have a very accurate sense of where things are going. Let’s say your bus breaks– it happens to the best of us– and you have to find another way to get to work. Well, you don’t have to worry about it, and you know why? Because you live in a big city, and that means that no matter where in your usual route you end up stopping, you will always have at least one other bus that drops you off at a walking distance from the office (the subway is reserved for those crazy days, and you prefer to keep it that way.) Or what happens when someone sits on your desk? Truth be told, no one has a fixed desk in the office, and it bothers you immensely to even think about it. Hot desking, the idea of jumping around the office as you see fit, is the new workplace trend that everyone wanted to try, just because Google or some other cool company did it. You, on the other hand, hate it, because you like sitting in the same place everyday. Isle seat, back to the rest of the office for optimal focus time, right corner. Oddly enough, a very coveted seat that no one ever gets to seat in, considering you arrive in the office an hour earlier than everyone else. So no, you also don’t need to worry about your desk being taken.

Or at least, you didn’t need to worry about your desk being taken, not until you got to the office that morning and, like a ghost haunting the overly large and colorful room, a man was sitting on your desk, clicking and clacking away on his computer with large headphones on. You think the scarier part of it all is that he must’ve been incredibly still, for even the sensor lights to be off, but then the reality of your situation dawns on you and you realize that, since he’s taken the desk, you would have to simply seat somewhere else. And that’s the real scary part. Tugging your jacket closer to your body, the unsettling itch on your palms and churns on your gut making you feel a bit sick and, honestly, insane, you choose the sit next to his. Maybe proximity will help, you think, but the tables ran long, almost communal with three computers and chairs lined up on each side, and even putting your bag down on the floor, instead of perched against the foot of the table, makes you shiver.

“Hi, good morning,” You mumble, a bit lost in your own world of take one deep breath in, and two short ones out– then two short ones in, and one big breath out to notice he has now pulled his big headset down and looks at you curiously.

“Good morning,” The deep voice catches you mid-big-breath and you smile tightly. “Are you okay?”

Is it that obvious? Yes. Yes it is. “Oh, yeah! I’m fine,” The wavering in your voice is thankfully hidden by the high pitch tone your embarrassment has taken, and you quickly move on. “My name is Y/N, by the way! I don’t think we’ve met.” You say it in the most polite way you possibly can, but you actually know you two haven’t met, and for very simple reasons at that. One, you have an impressive memory with faces, yet a terrible one with names. Two, you’ve been working at that company for a year now, and before every new hire’s first day, there’s an email sent out to make sure people are in their best behavior– and you haven’t gotten any emails about that recently. And finally, three, this man is, as your best friend would later on describe him, a hottie. His longish hair, threatening needing a cut, shone even under the pale lights of the room, and his curious eyes hold an odd scrutinizing yet innocent look. It makes you squirm in your (wrong) seat and this is already too much change for your poor secondary character heart to handle.

It seems you’ve said something funny, though, because he laughs the kind of laughter that has even you smiling, brows raised in a silent question. It’s a small giggle with a bit more weight to it, and his earrings shine when he shakes his head. “Sure. I’m Min Yoongi,” He says, sighing heavily as he leaned back. “I work for the strategy guys.”

Now, that sounds wrong. No one here works for anyone besides the company– because of course, someone like you, couldn’t have gone into any other business than market research. Your job, much like your life, was all about controlling the variables and understanding those around you; what was engaging, what wasn’t translating well with new consumers, what made people want to buy something. To say you got to work with a smile on your face might have been a bit cliche, but you truly did. You love your job, you love your team, you love the office… and it is all because you are already used to them. But this Min Yoongi is new, and you’re not used to him yet. “For…?” You inquire, a bit confused.

“Yeah, I’m the freelancer for the latest music project you all got going on,” He mumbled, offering nothing more than a tight smile. “The streaming apps one.”

That brings a shine of recognition to your face, your smile coming back and your hand lightly clapping as you get excited. “Oh wow! Welcome! I really wanted to be in that project for the qualitative section, but my manager said I was too busy with other stuff,” To his credit, your manager is right. His name is Jun and you are yet to meet someone sweeter than him in that entire place. As nice he is, though, Jun sometimes lacked the time to manage yours, and you always ended up thrown around in as many projects as higher ups could drag you into. Except the ones you actually want to be in, and as much as you beg and ask and whine, it seems that that isn’t changing anytime soon.

“Are you sure?” The crease in his forehead has your hands sneaking under your thighs, itching to press it down and tell him he shouldn’t frown like that. “I could’ve sworn we were on-boarding you this afternoon.” The mumbling continues and you barely have a chance to say anything else before he puts his massive headphone on again and rushes off to a meeting room. Why seat there if you use the desk?, you pout, but something about his little laugh, still playing in your head, stops you from feeling sour. Like this, you continue with your day; admittedly, you feel a bit stunted every time you sit down, mind unable to adapt to the slight change of view and it takes you a while to get back to work, but you keep the smile. It’s what you do, always. From meeting to meeting, document to document, you keep the smile, letting everyone around you feel a bit more at ease, because if she’s smiling, how bad can it really be, right? But just like any self-respecting background character added in just for the plot, you’re actually suffering inside. And by this you mean you’re hungry and stressed and a bit overwhelmed, running around the office trying to keep up with everything you have to do. It already past lunch time when you finally have time to stop and sit down, closing your computer to go outside and grab a quick coffee and snack to get your through the rest of the day.

The line is long, but you are actually thankful for it. The one thing you don’t really time or plan is your lunch. Because you arrived an hour earlier and was always at 110% effort, you felt entitled and deserving of a lunch break in which you could come back to work feeling truly relaxed, and so standing there, with your music on and your shoulders slowly unwinding from the crazy day you’ve had, you take your time. You enjoy it. You smile at people that smile back, you giggle at cute cat videos on your phone, you tell the barista that there’s no rush, take your time! It doesn’t hurt being nice, and that is something you vehemently believe in, especially as you let this sweet elderly lady pass in front of you when your turn finally arrives. “Oh, thank you, dear, thank you so much!”

“You’ve been waiting for almost twenty minutes and you let someone pass in front of you?”

That caught you by surprise. Looking behind you was Yoongi himself, looking oddly unbothered for someone that just sounded so judging. “Yeah?” You mumble, shrugging. “I’m in no hurry and she’s… older.” You whisper that last past, looking to see if you offended her by accident.

“Were you born in a small town or something?” The question catches you by surprise and you can’t stop laughing, eyes squinting in confusion. A small town? You had been born in the largest city in the country, where is this coming from?

“No, not at all. Why?”

“Hm, not a lot of big city people would do what you did.”

“Oh come on, no way,” Still chuckling, you now cock your head to the side– big city people? “Wait a second. Are you from a small town?”

“No, but I also wouldn’t let a random stranger cut in front of me,” That brings a smile to his face, and you’re oddly proud about it. It’s such a contrast to his serious aura, that gummy smile that made his eyes disappear like two little half-moons, and you can’t help but think that he might not be as much of a threat as you thought he was. “Go on, get your food, for the love of god.”

“My bad, do you want to go in front of me?” You joke, ordering a coffee and a croissant. Despite having forgotten to eat breakfast, the stressful day took a tool on your hunger and now you feel nauseous just from smelling the sandwiches at the table nearby.

“Seriously? 20-something-minutes waiting in line for a croissant?”

“Are you judging me, Mr. Min?” You squint, paying and standing aside as he ordered his food– a heavier lunch than you could ever handle without needing a nap after.

“I absolutely am, Ms. Y/L/N,” He scoffed, and without even looking at you, he threw you something. Somehow luck is on your side and you catch it in the air, thankful that it didn’t hit you in the face. “There. That should help with lunch.”

“A smoothie?” You mumble. “You know I can pay for more food, right?” “Yes, but apparently you won’t,” He says, and for some reason, some weird, out of place, mysterious reason, that hits you like a slap to the face. “Just take the smoothie. I was right and we’re on-boarding you into the project later today. I need your brain at full capacity.”

“I’m on the project?” And just as you ask that, your phone chimes with a message from your manager confirming that you are, indeed, in the project. “What happened?”

“We needed someone from your team and I asked for you,” He says bluntly. The expression on his face, though, doesn’t hold the same harshness as his voice did, and you stare at him for a while longer. “Are you even listening to me…?”

“Why did you ask for me?”

“Cause you wanted to be in the project.”

––––––––––––––––––––––

That night, you call your mother. Truth be told, you two don’t chat all that much. Neither do you and your father. Or you and your brother. It’s not that you hate them, no; it’s just that they broke the routine. Your family is… spacious. They take a lot and give very little and some days, you think you don’t have much to give at all, so you keep your distance.

Every so often, though, something in you– maybe your inner child or whatever people call it– yearns for a type of love that only parents can offer. It warm and embarrassing and hilarious, because when you crave for a parent after you’re grown and an adult, you crave for a type of confidentiality you never thought possible, not even once; you’re ready to tell them things that you never thought you would, and it’s a type of support that comes from the heart, because even if they judge you, they are supposed to be on your side. They are supposed to be your parents. But when you call your mom, no parent pick up on the other side; just a woman, broken and tired, that seems to have forgotten her role in your life as she talks to you like you’re her friend. “Mom! Hey, how are you–“

“I’m tired,” She sighs, and there is some rustling on the other side of the call. While you wait, you follow the drill: you move to the kitchen, you open the fridge, and you pull the wine out, filling your cup well beyond the acceptable amount. By the time your flatmate walks in from work, you’re halfway through the cup and you look like you’ve been on the verge of dissociation for the past thirty minutes as your mother just keeps on ranting. You don’t expect her to stop any time soon, but maybe she hears your friend greeting you and she is back into faking she cares. “But why did you call, darling?”

“Oh!” And like a customer that has been put on hold for hours and hours on end, you rush to speak. “I had a really weird day today, and I guess I just wanted to talk about it an–“

“Y/N, you know, I’m tired. I just told you all that happened to me, and if you think you had a weird day, think about mine,” Your mother scoffs on her side of the phone and in between the silent living room and the faint noise of the shower being turned on, it feels that much louder. “So I can’t handle this right, I really can’t. As if it’s not enough that your brother got himself intro trouble yet again, you have to call me with problems, too? You know I can’t handle this, so–“

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Interrupting her always works. Whenever in despair, your voice gets all high pitched and loud, and it shows– from the obvious pulling the phone away from you to the awkward chuckle of someone in shock, it shows that all you want is to hang up that call and move on with your life. However, there’s a catch (as everything with your mother does) and the catch is that if you hang up and move on with your life, she won’t move on with hers, and if she doesn’t move on with hers, it’s inadmissible that you move on with yours. Your mother, for all the good qualities she has and all the good deeds she’s done, seems to lack the fundamental notion that you are not her, and she is not you. Ever since you’ve known yourself to exist, love and care have been conditional– conditional on you not taking her place. Her spot. Her attention. That is the conditionality that you have never had control over, and, consequently, never really managed to follow. And that’s when you think the competition began. If your dad gave you a bracelet, she had to get one too. Or if you and your brother gave her a mother’s day gift, it had to be more expensive than her friends. Or, later, after she divorced, if you had a boyfriend, she had to have one too– or else you’d simply be angry because I have a boyfriend and you don’t. As if you were a a tool to up her strategy in this game she called life, a stepping stool to winning. “Never mind, I’m fine, it’s okay. I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

But you won’t, not until she calls you again to complain about something you really couldn’t care less about. Throwing the phone aside, quickly and carelessly as if it was burning your hand to hold onto it, you take a deep breath. During moments like these that you think that you might be more similar to your mother than you previously thought, having to repeatedly remind yourself that everything is okay and that you are allowed to live without her by your side; without your brother, and your dad, and anyone else that threatens your preciously curated peace. For a while, that’s all you do, repeating those words in your head like a mantra that you want to manifest, like a wish you want granted; your life is your own, you are allowed to live it without them by your side. Your life is your own. You are allowed to live it. Your–

“Are you good, babe?”

“My god, no,” The relief in your voice at her question is palpable. “Seriously, she’s too much.”

“I know,” Your friend says, looking at tired as you are. For all you talk, Hyejin doesn’t; it’s like you two are opposites when it comes to coping mechanism, you preferring to spit it out and her swallowing every last bit of it. “But hey, at least you don’t have to speak her if you don’t want to, right?”

Her laughter drags out through your tired brain as you process what she said. At least you don’t have to speak to her if you don’t want to. The logic, alone and itself, makes sense– you’re an adult, you pay your own bills, and you live in your own apartment, so yes, you technically don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re the writer of your story… but for some reason, you write yourself as nothing more than a side character. A secondary presence in the life of this mysterious woman you aim to be one day. Which means that you’d suffer for suffering sake– that you won’t have major break throughs, that you will constantly be deemed as the villain, that no main love interest will come and save you from yourself. Being the second character means being eternally alone, with a few selected people by yourself, and you have now convinced yourself that this might not be that bad. Even if you do have to call your mother every other day and listen to her complain, because in this part of your life, the one where it interconnects with hers, she is the main character, and you are the writer. So no, unfortunately, you can’t not speak to her, because if you don’t, how will her story continue? How will you know what’s the next scene you have to prepare and hand in for her?

Saying all of this out loud would, however, make you sound absolutely insane, and today is not the day you want to spend hours hashing out your feelings over tears and wine. Today, all you want is a delicious dinner to soothe your twisting stomach and some unwinding with a show that is way too dramatic to even feel real. “How was work, baby? What do you want for dinner?” “Work was… curious,” You hum, walking with her to the kitchen and pouring a glass for her. “Oh! Can we have your special udon, please?”

“Okay, elaborate?” The way she wiggles her brows has your giggling like a school girl, sitting over the counter as you tell her about your day. “And he was in my desk! Can you believe that? And, and– Oh, chicken’s ready?” The way you’re so distracted by your surrounding is a bit adorable, your friend slapping your hand away from the pipping hot food. “Ow! Okay, okay, so then, I’m going out to get some air and food cause it’s been a day, and he shows up behind me, looking all handsome and… and freelancer-like, and he’s all like, ‘I’m judging you, Ms. Y/L/N’. Stop laughing, I’m serious!”

“Sorry, sorry, but it’s just that this sounds like two kids in recess telling you like each other,” Hyejin shrugs, working on the broth for the noodles as she laughs. “Let me guess, he’s handsome?”

“How did you know?”

“That look on your face,” Your friend points out, wooden spoon pointed at your face. “You get that look when you are curious, and not a lot of things make you curious… except handsome men with weird hair.”

“His hair is majestic, Hyejin!” And, just as you cry out, you can feel the weight on your shoulders starting to shed, the previous talk with your mother pushed aside thanks to the images of the luscious and shiny locks on the freelancer. “And he’s so cool! He’s working on that project I wanted to be a part of, remember? The music one– and guess what?! He asked for me to be in it too!”

“He asked for you to be in it?” That has Hyejin looking at you with a smug smile. “Didn’t you say you just met?”

“Yup. Just met.”

“Hm, I think things are starting to get curious, indeed.”

––––––––––––––––––––––

The next few weeks are absolute chaos.

With projects like this, it is common to go all ‘fast and furious’, as your boss likes to call it. It means that from day one, things are happening. Planning time is minimal and execution is clumsy, but the result are flawless. What you still struggle to grasp, however, is why they never got you on that project before. Being on your team, the qualitative researchers, meant you did the ‘people work’; you interviewed people, you analyzed the information they offered, be it about a product or a service, and you do it all with that unchanging smile on your face. Even when interviews run long, way past 6PM, and even when people are rude and creepy, you do your job because as tiring and frustrating it can be, you love it. Back when you were younger, your parents always laughed at you and your brother, saying that he had been destined to work with people, while you might be best at working against them. He’d be famous or work with publicity, while you seemed to always end up being pushed towards being a lawyer or a writer. Lonely jobs that required discipline. And as you did with anything, you believed them, wholeheartedly, because they are family, and you’ve been indoctrinated to believe that that is the ‘be all’ of relationships. Family.

Now, it’s easy to see how that word carries a different weight to you; how it makes you shiver and wither within yourself, an awkward laugh escaping you anytime the subject is brought up. Family. Family doesn’t do what they did to you, but then again, what did they do? Recognizing your own pain has been a lifetime of work, and, sometimes, when your tired or drunk, you like to laugh about it and say that secondary characters only feel betrayal or anger, and so those are the only things you know well enough to give them a name. Frustration is a close third, but sometimes it seems that you just name anything that you don’t know as that. Much like you are doing then, running around the office with your laptop and your notes, trying to make time fore everything you need to make to time for, while your phone vibrates in your pocket. You know who it is– the only person that calls you during work hours is your mother, as she can’t seem to fathom anything being more important than her immediate needs– and as much as it pains you with worry, you ignore, call after call.

“Y/N, are you coming?” Yoongi calls, holding the meeting door open with a gentle smile, and your shoulders sack down in relief, chuckling at just how this man has changed your life in such a short amount of time.

Truth was, the past month or so completely threw you off of your game. Every morning from that day onwards, was a competition; if you don’t get to the office first, Yoongi makes sure to sit on your desk just out of spit. “I heard people saying that’s your seat,” He confessed one afternoon just as you two walked back from lunch. I have to keep an eye on you, now, he said one day as you two met in that same cafe. You’re a key part of this project, so I need to make sure you’re eating well and keeping that big brain in tiptop condition. At that you only laughed, but it turns out he was serious, and from then on, you two grab lunch together everyday. “It’s a coveted seat, Y/N. Perfect positioning for optimum efficiency. I like it here.”

“Are you declaring war, Min Yoongi?” You gasp, not knowing if you should laugh or cry.

“I’m just saying,” He shrugs, laughing at your face. “You have competition now.”

Safe to say, drastic times calls for drastic measures, and with the determination you never really gave yourself credit for, you start to fight back. It’s annoying at first, truly; living outside the lines your drew for yourself is incredibly off-putting, and it makes your skin crawl with the sense that something is wrong, like the universe will make you pay for your sins. What are those sins, you are not quite sure, but it doesn’t matter– surely there is one or another here and there. But you’ve been doing it for the past five weeks, this repentance, and it surprises you how easy it is to get used to this new routine. Maybe the trick is to have a routine, you think at one point when you wake up earlier to try and beat Yoongi to the office. Not a specific one, but just… a routine. Because you get the earlier bus, now, when you get to your final stop sometimes the cafe is not open, which means you can’t get your usual coffee, which means that your usual smile is not so smiley anymore. On those days, mysteriously enough, Yoongi shows up with two Americano’s to go, placing it next to your screen as a sign of defeat. On the days he makes it there before you, you do the same. You can’t quite explain how you know when he’s there before you, but you do, and so you get that extra latte, just to hear him complain about the amount of milk in a cup.

When you tell Hyejin about this, she laughs, in absolute disbelief. “And you two just… know when to get coffee for each other?”

“Yeah, it’s like an unspoken white flag for the day,” You answer, moving around to give her all the spices she asks for while she cooks. “You know?”

“No, I don’t know, but I wish I did. Coffee is expensive, having a hot freelancer buy you some must be awesome.”

“It kind of is, but then, I buy him some back.”

“Yeah, and it seems that that is all you need to be okay with him sitting on your desk,” Teasing you is her favorite past time, and you chuckle with her. As much as you don’t want to face the truth, you know it is happening as you two chat about this man.

This man. Min Yoongi. Sometimes, it’s still hard to believe that someone as temporary as him, as his contract, has permanently ruined you.

“Yeah, I guess that’s all I needed.”

Your phone vibrating in your pocket again brings you back from the fond memories of that late night chitchat, and, turning it off for the time being, you run after Yoongi, sitting next to him with a final breath. “You good, Y/N?” To that you just nod. If this was going to be a successful meeting, you need to get your hand in the game. It’s quite noticeable, whenever your off your game– you get easily distracted, head filled with useless things that don’t relate to your job; and thankfully, on those days, your manager takes it easy on you. Jun is the blessing in that office that usually saved you from going insane; he understands that your job is valuable and that somedays that value needs to be nurtured and handled with care. Those are the days he gives you menial tasks throughout, from inputing new data on a spreadsheet to copy and pasting shit on a shared document, letting you drown the sounds of the busy office with your music and asking fellow colleagues to leave you alone unless something urgent demanded your attention. Those are also the days that you feel extra thankful for having someone like him by your side, making sure to offer him extra gentle smiles whenever you start feeling better.

But today can’t be one of those days, and as soon as the client’s face shines on the screen, you are on it. Taking notes is usually your role in a client meeting, but this time, you’re on it; this time, you speak like the expert you are, helping the team to drive the point across: and that is that the project is moving forward as expected, with some additional add-ons from your side. “Well, well, well, look who grew a backbone,” One of the guys on the data team quips and for a second, you have half a mind to answer something back. That seconds passes slower than it should, but with one deep breath, you just nod and proceed to move on with your life… until he speaks.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that Y/N usually doesn’t speak much in client meetings,” God, sometimes you hated the data team and their lack of people skills. “Too busy taking notes.”

“Hm. Weird. I’m yet to see her top talking,” Yoongi mumbled back, sending the man an unimpressed glare. “Not that I would want that, seeing that she saved your ass in that meeting.”

“Yoongi–“

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she’s the specialist here and you seem to forget that,” How is he so calm?, you think, eyes wide as it only escalated. “You didn’t know your stuff in there and she jumped in. Quite embarrassing, if you ask me.”

“Good thing I wasn’t asking.”

“But you should,” Yoongi chuckles, and it’s a type of chuckle that has the hair on your body standing up as people started to stare. “How do you think you’ll get better if you don’t admit your mistakes?”

“There was no mistake, man, what the hell is your–“

“Okay, you’re done here,” You jump in, smiling uncomfortably as you slot yourself in the middle of the mess. Yoongi simply shakes his head, sitting back down on your desk (you arrived first today, it’s yours) while the instigator puffed his chest out, stepping forward enough to have your hand on his chest to push him back. “I said we’re done, man. Meeting was good, project is good, we’re all good. Go take a walk and I’ll talk to him, okay?”

There are some less than pleasant words exchanged– actually, thrown at Yoongi– until you two are able to meet eyes. With one nod of your head to the door, he follows you out, a little pout on his stoic face as you hold the door open for him. Only when you’re really out– away from the office building, away from the angry analyst, away from the stifling colorful walls– you stop and ask. “What the hell was that, Yoongi?”

He doesn’t answer for a second, eyes slowly squinting at you and it reminds you of a cat considering his options; either to leap or run. This time, it seems he chooses to leap. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious, Yoongi! What the hell was that? Were you trying to pick a fight with the quant guys?!”

“Y/N, they were talking shit–“

“No–“

“Yes, they were!”

This is the first time you see Yoongi rattled. Usually, he’s… serious. Sober. Impassive. On a normal day, nothing fazes Min Yoongi; he’s calm and composed, and he’s the guy people go to when they have to make impossible choices, mainly because what seems impossible for mere mortals is just another day in the park for him. He reminds you of an adrenaline junkie sometimes, so overstimulated by high risk situations that when something like this happens, they handle it like it’s nothing. But today is not a normal day, from what it seems, and his façade slips with one raise of his voice. “Yoongi…”

“I’ve been working as a freelancer for five years now,” He tells you, looking around in a way that makes you think that he’s not looking for anything and just doesn’t want to look at you. “One year for your company, and I’m yet to see you say something about these… these fucking comments.”

“The comments don’t bother m– did you just say one year?” It takes you a moment to process his words. “One year? As in 365 days? At my company?”

“This is not how I figured you’d find out,” He chuckled, brows rising. “But yes, one year.”

“How the fuck have I never seen you?!”

“Not sure, considering we’ve working the search engine project together.”

“WHAT?” Your eyes go wide at the confession, and, this time, you’re the one looking around, too embarrassed to even meet his gaze and deal with the consequences of your voluntary alienation. “Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

The way he shrugs sends you off in frenzy unlike anything else you have ever experienced, and you try your best to rewind, to get your brain to work properly for once and notice your surroundings in memories you never quire revisit. But you can’t, and try as you might, you don’t remember ever seeing Yoongi until that fateful morning when he stole your seat. “I can’t remember for the life of me, oh my good, Yoongi, I’m so sorry, I just–“

“You work too hard.”

“What? No, that’s not–“

“But it is,” He chuckles, in that very same way you know call it the ‘Yoongi way’– all shy yet carrying an air of… acceptance. “Y/N, you arrive here hours before anyone else and you’re always one of the last to leave! And don’t event try to lie to me, I literally see it happening and I’ve been seeing it happening for like, a year now. This is crazy! And for what? For little pricks like that barely even know your name keep making comments like that? Are you serious?”

“Okay, first of all, take a deep breath, you’re way more annoyed by that than I am,” You point out, torn in between being amused and impressed. “And second, you get here just as early, if not earlier, then I do.”

“I’m a freelancer, Y/N,” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I have an hourly fee, of course I’m gonna get here early. You, on the other hand, have a fixed contract and I know for a fact your company doesn’t pay overtime.”

You know he means no harm in pointing that out. You know, you really, really do– Yoongi is doing what Yoongi does best: he’s stating the facts. Your company doesn’t pay overtime, and you do arrive and work hours longer than you should… but what seems to escape the man’s mind is that these facts are not exclusive to work and, although it’s not his fault that he doesn’t quite know your deep and entrenched frustrations, it still feels like a personal attack when he calls it out. “I have no place complaining about my seniors,” Is all you say, humiliation spreading through you like wild fire, and you take a step back, defensively almost.

“Are you serious?” The squinted eyes makes you squirm, crossing your arms like a shield against the unusual attention. But is it really unusual?, a little voice deep within you asks, poking at wounds that you aren’t really ready to heal. He doesn’t pay attention to anyone else. You aren’t stupid, as much as you’d like to think so. You notice things– things like how Yoongi doesn’t really chat much with other people, or how he seems to actively avoid them, or even how his gaze doesn’t seem to look for anything other than yours. So yes, you definitely notice things… even if you don’t make much of them. Hyejin has been trying to convince you of things that your brain can’t possibly comprehend, and you just laugh and shake your head. You’re crazy, you laugh whenever she starts her monologue of how he sounds like he likes you. He probably just feels comfortable around me. Must be hard being a freelancer and having to readjust to new teams and offices all the time, you know? But as much as you push it away, the idea lingers, and with time, it blooms; an excited rush here, a little sneaky glance there, and it’s like this feeling has been with you since forever, impossible to remember a day before your eyes look for the man himself every morning. “Y/N, you can complain all you want, especially if you’re being overworked and unappreciated.”

“Unappreciated?!” You frown, mind starting to go on endless loops. “I don’t– I mean, we’re all working hard, I’m not the only one and–“ “Why do you refuse to see the value you bring to this company?”

A moment passes by, in which all you can do is feel the burn of his words on your skin, the uncomfortable sensation of absolute shame prickling your eyes; enough so that you have to look away and hide the odd shimmer in them. “I’m not all that.” It’s worse than you ever thought it could be, saying that out loud. The cringe gets to your first, your nose scrunching up with just how pathetically small you sound, and you wonder if Yoongi notices it, how tense you look. “Not all that…?” He mumbles back, scoffing before gently taking hold of your elbow, pulling you to the side and away from the curious eyes of fellow coworkers on their cigarette break. His nervousness, so out of character to the point of feeling slightly demeaning, has your back pressed against the wall trying to create any and all distance possible.

This isn’t right.

Nothing about this is right, and you feel like your chest compresses to the point of imploding. This attention– this sudden presence in your previously organized life– is a disturbance in the right order of things, and that isn’t right. Only main characters get this; only people like Jisoo in Strategy, or Hyejin in her gloriousness, or Yoongi with his mysteriousness. Only people like your brother, and your mother, and your father; they are the ones that get this, they are the ones that are made for care and attention and love. You’re an addition to something already established– a family already made, a company already prospering, a team already thriving. You don’t lead nor do you bring anything more to what’s already existing. But try as you might, mouth gaping like a fish out of the water, you can’t bring yourself to tell him all of that– you can’t bring yourself to shatter the one person that had ever put in this much hope in you; because that’s what would happen if you were to spill it all out, you know it from how Hyejin’s face falls, little by little, whenever you give into your mother’s taunting words on the phone. “I’m just–“

“An integral part of this team.”

“Yoongi, come on–"

“You’re a valuable asset to this company.”

“That’s not the–“

“You’re a fucking awesome person and an amazing woman, and I can’t stand on the sidelines anymore.”

Those words, so direct and assertive, short circuit your brain in a way that you lose it, squeaking loudly. “But you have to!”

“What?”

“You have to stand in the sidelines, okay?” You breathe out, pushing your hair back and away from your eyes in a clear sign of frustration, and the way his eyes follow your hands makes you shove your hands in your pockets, fighting the needs to fidget any longer. “I’m not someone like… like that, Yoongi. I stood in the corners my whole life, why the hell does it have to change now? I belong in the support bench. The sidelines are comfortable and away from attention, and if I fuck up, guess what? No one gives a shit. Low risk, low reward, sure; but low risk, low risk, Yoongi. I don’t like risking shit. I like consistency, like, like… like a secondary character. I like how I’m predictable and how people see that as being reliable. I like how I know I can come into the office, do my work, and go home. A secondary character fulfills their role as a plot device, and sure, it might be sucky and weird sometimes, but I… I like knowing I’m helping people, even if it makes me sound like I am absolutely insane.”

“No, you’re not insane, just stupid.”

“Wow,” You say, eyes wide and an incredulous smile on your lips. You had seen Yoongi’s sharp tongue in action, before– he usually has a smart quip or two to say whenever someone made absolute statements like you have just done– but the shock of being on the other end of that whip kind of hurt. And that hurt stings, like a fucking bitch, to be honest. “Did you really just call me stupid?”

“Yes, you just said the stupidest things I’ve ever heard in my entire life, of course I’d call you stupid,” He scoffs– you’re starting to find out you hate hearing that mocking scoff, wanting to shove it back into his mouth and make him choke on it. “You think you’re a secondary character?”

“What?”

“A secondary character– that’s what you said,” Yoongi’s brows, probably the most expressive part of him, shoot up in a way you’ve never seen before, and you are not sure if he is shocked, disappointed, or amused. It’s a weird combo, but he looks good, as he always does, and you curse your speeding heart for acting up during the most inopportune times it could. “You think of yourself as secondary?”

“Okay, this is getting way too personal, way too fast,” You chuckle nervously, trying to find an emergency exit in between the wall you’re pressed again and his body that only got closer and closer. “I know it’s my fault– I shouldn’t have said that–“

“Yeah, cause it’s stupid.”

“Can you not say it like that, I know–“

“That it is stupid?”

“Yoongi, seriously, stop.”

“Why should I? You clearly don’t care.”

“This is a very shitty things to say–“ Your hands are in front of your body now, trying to put in some distance in between you two though it seems that this is as far away as you’ve ever felt from Min Yoongi. Normally, when you’re in the office and it’s just the two of you and the lights are still warming up, there is no distance, physical or metaphorical. Even the chairs are close, so much so that whenever either of you get bored, a footsie war ensues to see who’s going to get a stern look from the person across the table. So much so, that one time the arm of your chairs stuck and none of you could move or get out for ten minutes. So much so that you didn’t feel so alone and apart and isolated, anymore, but now… now it is all ruined. It’s all gone and done for, because much like with everything in your life that threatened to cross the line of importance and seriousness, the man with the gorgeous hair is starting to make you feel suffocated.

“Why are you being like this?” Yoongi asks, stepping away from you and you can feel your heart break with each step he takes. “Where is the hardworking and revolutionary girl I met a year ago?”

“What are you even talking about? Look we have to go back soon–“

“A year ago, on my very first day, you were the very first person I met. I think you don’t quite remember because you were rambling on and on about the Diversity and Inclusion committee, and you were saying you’d rally if you had to,” The story sounds somewhat familiar, and like a flashback from a trauma past, you remember that day: it was before the DEI committee was a thing and you had been practically harassing your coworkers to sign your petition for one. There is a lack of representation is this office, you’d whine, again and again, stumping your foot on the floor like a small child throwing a tantrum. And it’s so obvious that it’s borderline offensive. If you aren’t wrong, which you know you aren’t, those were the exact words you told Yoongi when he walked through the door, barely getting your head up from your computer and then running away for a meeting. “And you did freaking rally! God, you were such a pain in the ass that they literally said you could do whatever you wanted and you did! All because you had a purpose. Where is that… that conviction?!”

“That’s different! A DEI committee is for everyone, and it was to help the company move forward, not just me!” Your cheeks blush at his words, and as much as you want to laugh at his first memory of you, but this is no time for giggles. “And I don’t get why you’re so annoyed! This has nothing to do with you, this is my work place! You’re just a freelance here!” And you know, from the way his face falls, that that is the wrong thing to say.

“Of course I’m fucking annoyed, Y/N!” It’s the way his arms shake around that has you frowning. “I fucking care about you! But you know what, forget it. I have to go. I have a meeting with another client soon and I want to go home.”

“Yoongi–“

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Y/Y, since it’s so obviously working for you,” Sarcasm laces his words and it feels like you’ve been poisoned. “I’m just a freelancer, right?”

When Yoongi left, he makes a beeline to the bus stop right in front of you, and that’s mainly because you can’t move from the wall as if it is stuck to your back, your shoulders heavy to the point that you’d easily believe someone built the wall on top of them. It is the way that he doesn’t even acknowledge you that has you leaving next, Jun telling you that as your manager I can’t possibly ask you to stay here looking so depressed– go home.

The way back to your apartment is like a time warp. You have absolutely no idea how you got back home, all you know is that once you cross the threshold into your living room, the door slamming shut and echoing through the empty apartment– because of course today would be the one day Hyejin decides to not work from home and go to the office– just reminding you of how alone you truly are. And so you break down crying, sitting on the edge of the couch and replaying that entire conversation like it is a FRIENDS rerun on cable TV, bits and pieces, here and there. “You did again, Y/N,” You whisper to yourself, rubbing your blurry eyes a bit too harshly. “You lost another one.”

It is part of your cycle of life, or, as Hyejin likes to call it, your self-destructive cycle of life. She explains it better than you do, but it’s something about how in trying to keep your people in your life, you push yourself out of theirs. It’s like you try to highlight them in all capacities possible; like you want to make people so important that you seem to forget that you need some space too– some space to be whatever you want to be; a researcher, a young adult, a little bit lost, a little bit confused. A girl who is eager and yet afraid to truly grow, afraid to take the space she deserved and needs. And as someone who cares about you, that’s what got Yoongi frustrated. He made the space you needed, he did it all for you– and you just never noticed. “God, I’m pathetic,” You sniffle, shaking your head.

Just as you are about to go take a shower– an off day is still and off day, so you might as well try and enjoy it– your phone rings. The dread that overwhelms your body is familiar, and you know for a fact that it’s your mother on the other side, calling to probably complain about something you don’t really care about. The smart thing to do, the one that Hyejin would do, is not pick-up. You can call them when you feel like it, she said one afternoon as you two sipped on overpriced lattes. You can Pavlov them into learning what are the nice and warm things to talk about by rewarding them with picking up the phone. In her own Hyejin way of dealing with things, it was quite an ingenious plan, really. However, it was a plan you were unable to follow through. Ever since you’ve known yourself to be, your mother had instilled this fear of not picking up a call, one that, to this day, has your brain immediately going to the worst case scenario possible for them to be calling. Don’t pick up, you think, biting your lip and staring at the phone. Don’t. Pick. Up. You can’t not pick up, though, curiosity driving you to your damnation. “Hello?”

“Oh, finally, I thought you had forgotten you have a mother.”

“…We talked two days ago, mom,” The sigh is involuntary, but you wince– you know she picks up on it, the pause on the other side enough to have you building your walls again, knowing that a punch is coming your way.

“I see someone is in a bad mood,” And there it is, sarcasm again. “What’s up with you?”

“You know what? I am in a bad mood, so can we just talk another day? I really don’t have the energy to chat right now–“

“The energy?” Her laughter is like a mocking reminder of how your family will never take your words seriously. How they might apologize, they might understand– but they’ll never consider anything you say with the seriousness it should be considered. “If talking to me requires energy, Y/N, then I think there’s something seriously wrong with you, because–‘

“Oh my god, do you know how to talk about anything that is not yourself?”

It comes out more of a mumble than anything else, but god does it feel fucking good. Laughing like a maniac for a split of a second, you think that this might be it– you’ve gone insane. “I am not feeling good right and I want to hang up this ridiculous call, but of course, that doesn’t matter. Why did you even call? What is it this time? What’s the life altering event that has shaken you to your core, enough that you just don’t have the energy to deal with my shit?” The gasp on the other side sends a sharp spark of excitement through you, and you continue, finally feeling the catharsis you’ve been longing for for so long. “Because that’s exactly what you say. Every. Time. No fail. But when I don’t have the energy, then something is wrong with me?! Are you fucking serious? I’m your fucking daughter! You should be making the time for me, not the other fucking way around! Why… why is it so hard for you to just be my mother? Why do I have to be your daughter, but you can’t be my mom?”

You don’t realize your back to crying, because the only thing you can register is the way your cheeks hurt, the muscle burning from the relieved smile stuck to your face. “Why can’t anyone make time for me, but I have to make time for everyone?”

“What are you even talking about? I never knew– I mean, you never asked–

“I have to ask?” You sound so shrill. “I have to ask for you to prioritize me? Wow… I don’t… I don’t think I can. That’s just too pathetic, even for me, mom. I can’t, and honestly, I just won’t ask you to, because that’s just humiliating. And you know what? I could’ve been paying attention to me all this time! I could’ve been putting myself first all this time– but you wouldn’t let me! You, and dad, and Minjun, and every fucking body else, because it’s always so cool and nice being the freaking hero of the day! Well, guess what? The hero is nothing without someone to fucking save, and I’m tired of waiting for someone to fucking save me!” It’s official: you’ve gone insane. “So, with all due respect, fuck off and leave me alone. I want to take a long bubble bath, and so I will go take my bath now. If you want to talk to someone, call your fucking therapist. God know you give him more money than you give me.”

This time, hanging up is not enough. It’s not enough because she’ll call back and you’ll pick up, because the impulse is stronger than your anger, and then you’ll hang up again and by the time this is resolved it will have simply be brushed off aside as you having yet another one of your tantrum moments. Your dramatics, as they would say, and this time, just the thought of it– of having your feelings cast aside to make space for anything else other than you– has you absolutely livid. Yoongi’s words plague your mind even you turn off your phone, throwing it on the couch with a manic laughter that incites more tears. This could be your new cycle– this relief that makes you sob like a baby while hugging your knees to your chest. It would be a much better one than your self-destructive one, even if it scares the shit out of Hyejin when she gets home from work. She needs a moment to calm down, but once you tell her what happened, from Yoongi to the conversation with your mother, she is in tears too; except hers are from laughing too much.

“I told you he liked you!”

“Is this really the only thing that you caught on to?” You muse, drinking the tea she made you a while ago.

“Well, this and the fact that you like him too,” Her words are laced with amusement, but you see the way she looks at you, the way her eyes linger on your face. Hyejin is your best friend and she knows when you’re upset, she knows when you need a hug or when you need someone to hold your hand; but she also knows when all you need is a laughter and a reassuring nod, much like the one she gives you now. “I’m proud of you. What are you going to do now?” “What else?” You sigh, rolling your eyes in the most extra way you possibly can, because with Hyejin, you can be extra, you can play around, and know that she will still take you seriously when you open up to her. “I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

––––––––––––––––––––––

You got to the office every day that week, but every morning, your seat is empty. Never in your years of attachment to your routine would you think that having your seat empty is a bad thing, but every morning you get to sit there again is bad a morning. No one talks to you on those days, preferring to message you your tasks and avoid having to deal with your dead and tired expression. Your big headphones, the ones that block the noise and the outside world from getting it, don’t move on your head and you wear them even to go out and buy a stupid smoothie for yourself, a remnant of Yoongi’s impact on your daily life still lingering through your efforts to keep him here. It’s Friday afternoon, when you finally snap and rush-walk to your manager’s desk. Soon, you realize you don’t like this; you don’t like the way he jumps when he realizes you’re standing there, or how careful he is with you know. “Okay, I’m not insane, you don’t have to look at me like that,” You mumbled, pouting a little. You two used to be comfortable with each other, joking around yet still remaining professional. It made work that much enjoyable to have that with him, and now… now he looks like he’s scared of you. “It’s not like I’m going to bite your head off.”

“That’s not– I mean, you just… you just look like you could use the space.”

“Wow,” Embarrassment hits you like a rock to the head, and you scoff while your cheeks redden. “Okay. Let’s just ignore the fact that everyone in the office thinks I’ve officially lost it, and get to it.”

“Uh… sure?”

“Where’s Yoongi?”

Realization is so obvious when it’s on other people’s face, and you soon realize you hate the look of smug realization on Jun’s face. His eyes crinkle under his smirk, finger tapping his chin in an odd thoughtful stance, and for the first time in that entire week you laugh. “Why should I know? Last time I saw him, he was with you.”

“Because you know everything that happens in this entire company.”

“That’s true, I really do, but he’s a freelancer, I don’t know much about his schedule. Have you checked his schedule? I’m sure he shared on with us when he joined.”

“I think that would be too stalker-ish, even for me.”

“I’ll do it,” He sighed, turning to his computer. “On one condition.”

“There’s a condition?” It’s hilarious how this escalates, but ever since your chair’s been empty, you haven’t felt this entertained. “Pray tell, what’s your condition.”

“You tell me if you guys get together.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I’m doing you a solid!” He laughs, hands up in the air as if he is trying to prove his innocence. “But I might or might not have put in a tenner on a bet… that you and Yoongi are going out.”

“Oh my god!” At his words, you let out an incredulous laugh, enough to have a few people staring at you while you pulled a chair to sit next to him. Leaning forward, you whisper with your eyes wide, not really believing this is happening. “There is a bet? Who the fuck is in this bet?”

“I mean–“

“Who?”

“…The entire department,” In his defense, he does seem apologetic, but apologies are not enough now— you’ve gotten a taste and it’s not all that bad; is this what it feels like to have all the attention on you? Is this what being a main character feels like? The consciousness of now knowing that people are watching you, aware of your private matters… is unsettling, you have to admit that much, and yet, you’re still alive. You’re still breathing, standing, laughing, thinking. You’re the exact same person you used to be five seconds ago, in your bubble of ignorance and naivety, but this time you’re a part of something bigger. You’re one of the people you cherish so much and it feels good. It feels good to be a part of this and you laugh, hand covering your mouth before you make too much noise, but you laugh and blush and shake your head in a way that has Jun laughing with you. “Qual and quant.”

“BOTH?” You shriek, cringing and hiding your face on your hands. “Why both?!”

“Because we’re not blind!” Nodding to the kitchen, you both step away from the desks and the curious ears around you two. “It’s so obvious you two like each other, the tension is insane!”

“Why– I mean, we’re at work! Why didn’t you say anything?” The way that he’s just calmly making you coffee and guiding you to one of the booths you have in the office is a bit nerve-wrecking. “This is so embarrassing!”

“Why would we say anything?” Jun shrugs. “It’s not affecting any of you guys’ work– if anything, it’s making it better. You two are a great team and after he practically begged me to put you on that project, we all thought he was finally going to tell you he liked you. I mean, everyone thought it was a bit weird how he’d stare at you and–“

“Stare at me?” Groaning, your head fall on the table in front of you. “Jun, I didn’t even know he existed until before the project.”

“What? He’s been working here for–“

“A year, yeah yeah he told me,” You mumbled sadly, sighing. “And now I fucked it up big time. I don’t think you’d have a piece of infinite wisdom in there for in-office dating?”

“So you guys are dating?” He sounds so excited that you’re jealous. You wish you could be excited like he is about the prospect of actually fixing whatever happened in between you and Yoongi, but all you have is pure and raw anxiety. “You’ve been so weird after that whole debacle and no one’s seen him and–“

“Are we really going to do this in the office?” You mumbled, sliding down the seat and wondering if being a part of something like this is worth embarrassment of pitiful glances and sympathetic smiles. “We are not dating… yet. But, here’s a deal for you: help me find out where he is so I can talk to him, and I’ll tell everyone you won the bet, whatever the details are.”

“Deal!” Jun answers way to fast, grabbing your hand and shaking it vigorously before smiling like he is complicit in a crime. “Now go fix it.”

“What do you mean, ‘go fix it’, I don’t even know where he is!”

“Yoongi, man, we missed you!”

If I could kill Jun, I would. Turning around, your mouth hangs open at the sight of the man you’ve been missing for days. “Hey.” Hey? Is that all you can say?! HEY?

“Hey, guys,” His tight-lipped smile is wrong, it’s all wrong. Usually, for you, he’d reserve that gummy grind you adored so much, the one that is giggly and has you giggly too. “Sorry, have to run to a meeting. Wasn’t planning on coming in but Hobi called and said the client needed something.”

He’s gone as quickly as he shows up, and you turn to look at Jun. “You know, one of these days, I’ll get to do the same thing to you,” You whisper, your sweet smile making him laugh in nervousness. “And it’ll be when you’re least expecting. Oh! And also, I want 20% of whatever you make, or else I’ll tell everyone that I never liked him to begin with.”

“As if anyone would believe that!” He laughs, letting you go back to your seat.

The day trickles by in a way that has you thinking it might just never end. Of course it has to be today of all days, the one that doesn’t go by, the one that an hour is a year and a year is a lifetime. This just makes everything worse, because if that’s the timeline you two have been dating around, then you ignored Yoongi throughout your entire lifetime and meeting him, properly meeting him after a year of having him around, is like your rebirth. It pushes you out of comfort zone, and it has you changing your most fundamental rules, and fuck, it even makes your heart beat funny– in that way that is speeds up when he’s close and it slows down when he’s even closer. But now he’s far away and you can’t even feel you heart beating, like a little hummingbird just turning and turning on your chair, waiting for the man that today, of all fucking days, decided to work late.

He knows you are waiting for him, he can see you through the glass windows of the meeting run, and you can see him seeing you. You can see his little smile as your eyes meet and that only serves as further encouragement for you to keep still, waving goodbye for all the lucky early birds, watching the office population lessen and lessen to the point that it is just the two of you. The meeting had ended long ago, an hour or so, and at this point you think he’s testing you, tip-tapping away on his laptop inside the meeting room and refusing to come out. You let time pass by, but at one point, you know you have to leave; if this is the extend of what he’ll do to avoid you, then maybe it’s wrong for you to stand there like a guard prison forcing him to hide behind clear glass. I thought we were going to be fine, you wondered, finally getting up and taking a peek at the clock. 8PM. It’s now been two hours since work ended and at this point, you just want to end yourself. Guess not.

It hurts, knowing it’s time to give up and pack your stuff up. It’s like admitting defeat to your biggest enemy, especially after he admitted his admiration for your conviction, of all things. Your softer side, however, the one that still liked to respect boundaries and keep people around you happy, pushed you to leave it and go home. If he wanted to talk to you he would have come out already, and pressuring him into a situation he so clearly did not–

“Where the hell are you going?”

Turning around on your heel, just as you are about to snap your headphones on again, you see Yoongi leaning on the meeting room door with a frown. “I uh… I mean, you’re… busy.”

“Not right now, I’m not,” He scoffed, taking a challenging step towards you.

“You were busy until now.”

“And now I’m free,” Another step.

Looking around, you feel like this is the perfect moment to have the conversation you’ve been dying to have, but at the same time you’re so confused and hungry that your face is like a loading page for an old computer. “What is happening right now?” You mumbled, carefully taking a step towards him. Even having your jacket on feels like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute there, you look like a statue, frozen in place and waiting for him to move first. “Yoongi, is this a joke? It’s not funny, okay, I’m starving right now and I did my best, I really did, but you just wouldn’t come out of the damned room! I was two seconds away from bursting in, but I figured that if you had the balls to hide behind clear glass you just really didn’t want to talk to me so–“

“I ordered some pizza.”

“…What?”

“I ordered some pizza,” He says again, slowly and gently, like he is trying to make sure you’re not malfunctioning. His dramatic enunciation makes him you chuckle uncomfortably, but you put your bag down regardless. Yoongi usually has this aura of leadership and command in his softness that you never really could pinpoint where it came from, and for someone who constantly tries to make people think he doesn’t care about anything, it’s a nice contrast to see him actually caring about something for once. Specially if that something is you. “So just stay put.”

“Okay, staying put,” You repeat, trying your best to suppress the smile on your face from flashing him all your hope and happiness. “Do you… Yoongi, can we talk?”

“Yes, Y/N, we can talk,” He chuckles, shaking his head as if you had said something silly. “I imagine that’s why you were spinning around in your chair since work ended.”

The fact that he knows you were waiting for him makes you a bit self-conscious, but you don’t see how that’s a bad thing anymore. Being conscious of yourself and how you feel has been a wonderful discovery for you– a bit late in life, sure, but good things come for those who wait, and now you can proudly say you think about yourself just as much as you think about everyone else; and no, it is not selfish, it’s simply normal. Because things might change, and you might adapt, but god do you still thrive in being normal, smiling through the prickle of embarrassment on your cheeks. “What can I say, I don’t get to spin around for almost three hours everyday– had to seize the opportunity.” It’s a joke and he laughs at it, but the nervousness remains; what will you tell him? There is a line you can’t quite cross, personally, sitting on your work chair and being inside the familiar office. It’s like a mental block that you get from seeing the colors of the walls and the computers spread out in the desks, your brain immediately switching to Work Y/N, the bubbly version of yourself that had gotten you into that mess to begin with. “So…”

“So…” Fuck you, you want to say, squatting your eyes instead– you know he’s doing this on purpose, the waiting thing, just to see what you’ll do first.

“I took a bubble bath the other day.”

If you could slap yourself in the face you would. Your eyes widen at your words, and it just like you to do this, really– to put your foot in your mouth when all eyes are on you. Well, when his eyes are one you, you couldn’t care less about other people, not right now. The way you blush makes this that much more embarrassing, almost like saying you had a bath is a confession of the highest secrecy.

“Huh,” Yoongi’s hums, eyes going wide and brows shooting up in his forehead. “Not quite what I was expecting but I’m glad? I’m not sure what you want me to say, right now, I–“

“No, no, that’s not the point,” You sigh, waving your hands around like a maniac. Breathe, Y/N, just breathe and talk. Letting your head fall onto your hands, you don’t breathe and you don’t talk– more like you mumble some words that he has to lean in closer to hear. “I… I understand what you mean. I know I let a lot slide and I know I shouldn’t but, but I just can’t help it. It’s this impulse I have, to just let people do whatever and sort myself after–“ This isn’t any better, his mouth hanging open in an amused expression of shock. “No! Not like that– stop being so dirty, we’re in the office!”

“It’s not my fault!” Yoongi laughs, hands up by his hand in innocence. “Choose your words better!”

Letting your head fall on the desk in front of you, you groan in pain. “I’m trying so hard here,” You cry out, refusing to straighten yourself up and look him in the eyes. “I don’t… I can explain it better once we’re not in the office, it feels so freaking weird opening up about my personal life when I’ll literally be here tomorrow talking about our final version of the presentation on Friday!”

“Are you serious?” His laughter booms through the empty office. “I always catch you and Lisa gossiping in the kitchen like no one’s watching!”

“It’s different,” Whining isn’t really your style, but it’s all you can do when he’s asking that much of you. “Lisa is… Lisa. We gossip all the time.”

“Well, pretend I’m Lisa.”

“I don’t think you want me to,” This time you look at him, glaring with the most suggestive look you can muster. “But… But I can tell you all about it another time. O-Over dinner. This weekend. At 7PM.”

The surprise in his face serves as an ego booster– somehow, Yoongi manages to look shy and proud at the same time, eyes sparkling with a glint of something kin to glee, and you can’t help but soften up; he looks beautiful like that, happy and lighter, and you think you’d do anything to make sure he always looks like that. “Did you just ask me out?”

“I did,” You whisper back, like you’re telling him a secret. “And it’d be pretty great if you said yes, Jun has a lot of money riding on this.”

“So do I, I put twenty bucks on you asking me out by the end of the month.”

“Why would you ever do that?” To be honest, you’re not that surprise, the fond smile on your face selling you out enough to the point that he slides his hand towards yours, palm up and open in an invitation, one that you accept gladly. Letting his thumb caress the top of your hand, sending goosebumps up and down your arm, he shrugged and mumbled, “If you didn’t, I would’ve.” “You avoided me for a week, you stubborn man, don’t lie.”

“Avoided you?” You see when it clicks in his mind, mouth gasping and hand tugging you closer, so much so that the front of your chairs bump together, legs intertwined. This is new, you think when he starts shaking his head in a rush. Never seen him actually look desperate. “No, no, no– fuck. I wasn’t avoiding you, Y/N, I got sick. I mean, I’m not going to lie, I was upset– I mean, just a freelancer? That stung. But I was an ass. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that, I just… I just want people to see what I see.”

“And what you have been seeing for a year, according to Jun.”

“He talks to much for his own good,” Yoongi blushes, but nods regardless. “Yeah, yeah, I have a massive crush on you, so what?”

“Nothing,” You shrug, sitting up and pulling him up too. It’s a bit funny to see just how much taller he is, since most of the time you two are sitting down side by side. Chuckling to yourself, you let your arms wrap around him, hugging him tight and resting your face on his chest. “I have a massive crush on you two. Kinda works.”

“Does this mean I get my money back?” His words are meaningless as his hand sneaking around your shoulders, keeping you flushed against his body and dropping a kiss on top of your head. He doesn’t stay like this for too long, one hand moving to cup your cheek and angle your face up, nose brushing against yours from how close he is. “You know, this is a very main character thing. Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

And the’s not wrong– but you couldn’t give two shits at this point, smiling wide and nodding into his hands. His eyes, dark and wandering all over your face, probably looking for a sign of discomfort or doubt, but you know he won’t find anything. You’ve never been this sure about anything in your life before, and even though you can already hear the teasing from your co-workers once they find out, you’re not afraid anymore; not when you can easily tell them to shut the fuck up and go get a life. “You get your money back and I get part of Jun’s profits. I say we use it for our first date.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” He mumble and then there’s no more need for words. Not when he pushes his mouth against yours, lips soft and slightly wet. His hands now held onto your cheeks, thumb caressing your skin as he took his time tasting you, languidly moving his mouth in a game of tag you can’t get enough of– a push and pull that has you both running after each other like starved people. It’s slow, though, much like everything Yoongi does; it’s slow and calming and it feels oh so fucking safe and comforting that you can’t quite let go yet, not when he pulls back a little too soon, making you chase his lips in a desperate attempt to prolong this further and further. Gone is the reservation that the office setting brings; you finally let yourself do something you want, even if later, when you’re back home telling Hyejin all about it, you blush and scream into a pillow at the thought of kissing someone in your fucking office, of all the places.

“But it’s not just someone,” She says, smiling and wiggling her brows at your blushing cheeks, curtesy of you retelling all about how soft his hair felt in your hands as you tugged on it, right before you two were interrupted by the pizza delivery guy.

Softly shaking your head, a fond smile on your still swollen lips, you shrug. “No, it’s not just someone. It’s Yoongi.”

-----------------------

Hi lovelies! oh my god, I’ve been working on this fic for the longest time and it’s massive, so thank you if you get to the end of it hahah been a while since I posted, but this got me excited! hope you enjoy <3

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